


Folie à Deux

by phattomato



Series: Meaningless South Park Drabbles [4]
Category: South Park
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Joke Fic, Kinda, LSD, M/M, Seizures, Sloppy Makeouts, Talking Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 04:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20221951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phattomato/pseuds/phattomato
Summary: folie à deux - a phenomena where two people have an identical delusion.





	Folie à Deux

**Author's Note:**

> warning: I've never done drugs, maybe a weed once or twice, but definitely never acid or any other hallucinogens. also, I didn't proofread this. also I wrote this in bits and pieces over the course of those past month, so I'm sorry if it doesn't flow properly xD
> 
> I hope you enjoy anyways, just a fun little jokey fic.

The purples and pinks of the sky bled together, resembling sickening bruises and cuts. The sun was no longer in the horizon, twilight becoming night. 

To Kenny, the purple hues were overly saturated, his eyes feeling like they were melting out of his skull from how bright the colours were, and he knew  _ exactly _ how that felt.

The being next to him stirred, causing Kenny to look over, his vision stuttering with each turn of his head. It took a moment for his sight to adjust, everything blurry, his vision bending and pulsating slowly, but he finally managed to focus on Stan. Stan was looking at him back and no doubt as intensely as Kenny. They stayed like that for all but a second before they broke out into a fit of giggles. 

"Strong shit," Kenny rasped. The woven chair seat he was sitting on was way too comfortable all of a sudden. He leaned back into it, pressing his shoulder into the back and keeping his eyes on Stan. 

It took Stan a minute-- "Yeah," then he slowly pivoted his head back to the front of the Marsh's farmhouse, overlooking the tall weed bushes growing prosperously all over the property. Kenny kept his unsteady gaze fixated on Stan, knowing better than to keep his eyes closed for too long.

Stan brought his beer up to his mouth, grasping the bottle with both hands and making sure his lips were secure around the neck before tilting back into his chair to take a drink, lest he spill it all over himself (again). 

Kenny couldn't help but giggle at the imagery. "Wanna get outta here?" Kenny poked. 

Stan chugged the rest of his beer before taking the bottle away, squinting his eyes and turning back to Kenny, licking his lips. "You live too far away, dude."

Kenny let out another loud laugh at that. "Your room, stupid," Kenny corrected through his giggles

"Oh."

It was decided, they'd go back up to Stan's room. Except what they really did was stare at each other too intensely, mapping out each freckle, mole, hair, and pore on each other's face. 

"Where?"

"Your room."

"Oh."

Stan set his beer down and got up from his seat, careful not to fall forward. With the combination of the strip and the alcohol, they were stumbling messes, but they managed to make it upstairs and into Stan's room, still having the sense to lock his door and turning off the lights. They didn't need them on. 

Kenny looked around Stan's room, reexamining everything as if it were the first time he had ever seen it. It was still the same pigsty it always was; Kenny knew he could see the individual bacteria breeding on the dirty paper plates and conspicuous stains that stuck to the wooden floor. It only put him in the mood more. 

He turned around back to Stan, his vision doubling, tripling, quadrupling, then focusing on Stan's face. His skin was uneven, bubbling and scarred from previously picked-at pimples, and Kenny could see the layer of grease coating every single strand of his hair (Stan often neglected to shower), but Kenny didn't mind. He never did. 

He smiled, dopey but lovingly, and made his way to where Stan was perched on the bed he still had from childhood. He pushed on Stan's chest, encouraging him to lie back (to which Stan happily obliged), and crawled in next to his friend.

He laid over Stan's stomach, intending to kiss him, but he let himself stare at Stan's face more, taking in and  _ loving _ every detail of it (even the stubble in between Stan's eyebrows where he'd been trying to shave the unibrow away). He brushed the greasy hair out of Stan's face, briefly thinking about how much Stan looked like Craig with his bangs pushed to the side, then dragging his finger down Stan's nose. His fingers tingled at every bump and texture of Stan's skin, sending little waves of euphoria through Kenny's body. 

They locked eyes. Stan's eyelashes much longer than they usually were and fluttering like butterflies wings, shading his engrossing hazel eyes as he looked up at Kenny. He didn't have a particular expression on his face, just relaxed, his lips parted ever so slightly, sending puffs of cool air that chilled over Kenny's clammy skin. 

_ You're pretty,  _ Kenny thought. 

_ You too,  _ Stan thought back. 

"Whoa," they both said in unison. Had they both shared thoughts telepathically? Sick. 

Kenny tried again:  _ What goes in hard and dry, but comes out soft and wet?  _

_ Aw, dude… _

_ Gum. _

Stan narrowed his eyes at Kenny, his mouth pulling into a forced frown-- one that obviously meant that he was trying to hide his smile. It was a stupid joke, but Kenny gave out a snort anyways. Stan's frown cracked, spilling into a smirk. 

_ Get down here,  _ he commanded. Kenny was more than happy to obey. 

Kenny situated himself on top of Stan, his elbows propping him up on either side of Stan’s head. Up close and personal like this, Stan’s pores swirled and breathed, little pinpoints of purple and red dotting Kenny’s vision. It was hard to not stare, but Stan’s hands were already on him, stroking his sides. They were in no hurry, but Kenny knew he couldn’t lose himself. He closed his eyes, instead choosing to focus on the patterns that ran across the inside of his eyelids. It was hard, but Kenny’s definitely been through worse. 

Closing the gap between the two, Kenny dragged his lips across Stan’s jaw, enjoying the rough, cutting feeling of the short stubble that was there. Once again, where his skin met Stan’s followed a bloom of tingles. Pressing his lips into Stan's chin, the hairs stabbing through his chapped lips. He felt like he was bleeding everywhere and all over Stan, but Kenny knew better. A hand snaked up from his side to his cheek, brushing it gently before pushing his lips to where Stan actually wanted them: over his own. 

They didn't kiss immediately, just staying flush like that, feeling the different textures of each other's lips. They both had chapped, dry lips. Kenny's was split down the middle and scarred over. He wanted Stan to chew that scar off. 

He finally pursed his lips into Stan's, Stan eagerly mimicking him. They started with soft kisses, nowhere near being the sloppy mess they often devolved to. It felt strange with Kenny's new drug-induced senses, but he didn't mind. 

Each kiss felt like he was slipping into another world-- like how it looks when a movie character steps through a mirror and ends up in another universe. When their lips parted, he knew that their skin stuck and pulled together, like they were bonded now. He allowed his eyes to flutter open, expecting to see nothing but blurry-face, but he could distinctly make out Stan's features even from this close up. Stan had closed his eyes too, the veins underneath the thin skin of his eyelids dark and winding like sickly, dead vines on some ancient castle wall. 

The rhythm was set: slow and steady, working into what they really wanted. Kenny didn't know when the rocking started, not like he was complaining. He felt like they had been there for hours, days, forever. Stan's hands were on his ass, groping and shifting Kenny's body however he liked. Kenny happily went with whatever Stan commanded of him. Their bodies were fully flush now, skin melting into skin, and nothing else mattered but the sensation of it. 

Stan slid his leg between Kenny's, Kenny immediately pushing his hips back onto it. He propped himself up fully, his palms digging into the worn old bed, lazily grinding against Stan's thigh. Stan's hands never left him; hands traveling down his neck to his chest to his hips, up under the shirt dipping with Kenny's boney figure, fingers dancing underneath the waistband of his underwear. The hands, greedy as ever, went to unbutton his pants, the loud ripple of the zipper sounding through the room, fingers slipping down his und--

Loud scratching filled Kenny's ears, and seemingly Stan's as well, as the hands had retracted from Kenny's dick. The scratching wasn't in his head, Kenny realized after pressing his ears shut, and he looked down to see where Stan's train of thought was. Stan looked just as confused, but he quickly sat up, looking around Kenny's body, his relaxed expression now pulled into one of annoyance. Kenny followed his gaze, which led to the door they had entered. 

The darkness did nothing to conceal the source of the noise. 

"Sparky! How the hell did you get in here?" Stan demanded.

Sparky, the old thing, sat like a good boy and looked over to his master. 

"I was always in here, you blithering buffoon." 

Kenny and Stan both jumped at the rough, inhuman voice. They slowly turned from one another to look back at Sparky. 

"What," Stan whispered, eyes wide. 

"It is awfully sickening to see you constantly bring your lovers here only to slob all over each other without moving beyond the belt. How absolutely trivial, you are 18 boy, not 14 and exploring sex for the first time. You're still a virgin despite the whores you have at your disposal. Get on with it, master, hands in pants, dick in fist," Sparky said, his voice more shocking than the last time the two boys heard him. 

Stan and Kenny's eyes only grew. 

"What the fuck," Stan said, still unsure of how to process the situation. 

Although, the situation shouldn't have come as huge a surprise as it had; both boys had experienced their fair share of talking animals (Stan falling victim to it more often than he would've liked), but those were all just imaginary childhood adventures, right? There was no way Sparky, Stan's old, gay dog was spouting out sex advice to him in front of his boyfriend. 

"You heard me, boy. I know my way around a man, and I would expect the same from you. You can drop the virgin straight boy turned gay act anytime you'd like. You two have been going at it for some time now-- trust me, I have seen it all," Sparky said, standing up and turning back towards the door again, and putting his paw out to scratch at it. "But would you be so kind as to let me out, I simply cannot witness any more of these acts. I am quite frankly too old to be able to stomach anymore of your poor attempts at coitus. It is absolutely revolting watching such a sad turn of events. I can't even get my own penis to unsheath, which you should know isn't hard for me. Its just like watching two logs grinding on each other trying to start a fire but they're too wet to do anything. Please let me out."

Kenny wanted to laugh, but the sudden rush of emotions and sensations from both the situation and the drugs were proving to be too much at the moment. He wanted to vomit, a sick feeling forming in his gut. The patterns on the walls and carpet and  _ Sparky _ were becoming ever more intense with their constant swirling and morphing. He rolled off of Stan easily when Stan pushed him aside, lying on his back to stare up at the ceiling. 1,203,554 exact swirling, breathing eyes stared back at Kenny, and the wash of nausea fell over him once more, and he started to feel his body tremble. 

Stan swung his feet over the side of the bed, swaying as he stood up and walked over to the door. He grabbed the handle, but didn't turn it. He looked down at his dog, Sparky looking back up at him expectantly. His face hadn't changed, no new expression on his face-- just his old, gay dog looking up at him waiting for him to open the door. Stan felt like asking 'what the fuck' again, but knew better than to get too deep into these situations. It was always a huge butterfly effect that tumbled out of control, and all Stan wanted to do that evening was get stupid high with Kenny and make out (and yes, maybe touch a dick or two), not suffer the almost end of the world for the third time in the past week. 

So Stan opened the door without saying anything and Sparky swiftly made his way out. 

Stan shut the door again slowly, listening to the click of the bolt latching into the groove. He stood there for a second, zoning out and trying to decide if that actually happened or if acid really does make you hallucinate. 

When he turned around, snapping out of his spell, Stan saw flying limbs jerking every which way and it took him a second to realize it was from Kenny's body and not some Eldritch being that decided to manifest inside his bedroom. 

"Kenny?" Stan said dumbly. He walked over to his bed to examine Kenny as he trashed wickedly every which way, obviously having a seizure. 

"Awh, c'mon dude that's so not cool. We were just getting to the good part," Stan complained, splaying his arms, gesturing to Kenny's sporadic limbs. Totally not cool. 

Kenny didn't reply, unable to as his mouth slowly began to foam, bile surging in his throat, choking him because of his position on his back. Stan just sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for Kenny to die. 

He must've bought the wrong strip of Batman.


End file.
